


I don't even like coffee

by TreesPLZ (hardlyatree)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Deadpool - Freeform, I really have no idea where this is going..., M/M, Sexual Content, Spideypool - Freeform, Violence, mature content, probably torture because i am a horrible person, spiderman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:06:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlyatree/pseuds/TreesPLZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You could say it started over a cup of coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Andrew? What kind of name is that.

**Author's Note:**

> First Spideypool  
> I love this ship. *Sighs*  
> It's late so there are probably miss spelling. I'll fix it later, <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You could say it started over a cup of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I rewrote this chapter. I didn't want to delete the work though so I'm going to delete the first chapter after I finish this one. I don't know I just really didn't like the way the chapter sounded? It just lacked everything I wanted it to have. So I hope this one will be longer, and better than the other one.  
> {Yellow}  
> [white]

The little bell above the door chimed as it opened. A man walked into the small coffee shop, hunched over on himself, he stood in line for the counter, the woman in front of him throwing a nervous glance back at him. He kept his head tilted down, looking at his boots instead of her, the hood over his head obscured his face in shadow, part of him wished he could just vanish into the large clothes. It was busy, even for a Saturday, the small coffee shop was packed almost full. He found it disheartening to say the least, he'd been avoiding the shop on Saturdays, simply because he knew it would be busy. He didn't do very well in crowds. The woman ordered her coffee and quickly made her way outside. He pretended not to notice her suspicious glance and the way she almost ran into a table by the door trying to get outside to quickly. Damn, he must look worse than usual. He stepped forward and felt his heart flutter a little in his chest, and his shoulders relaxed just slightly, regardless of the packed Coffee shop. The kid behind the counter was grinning at him, brown eyes dancing with glee, his hair was messed up and his glasses were dirty from syrup. The man gave him a weak, tired looking smile and fished his money from his pockets. Hesitating for just a second as he realized he'd forgotten to wear gloves in his rush this morning. Inwardly he cursed his luck. Pulling the exact change from his pocket he reached to give it to the cashier. The boy just smiled.  
"Keep it, Coffee is on me today, besides I have something I want you to try." The man quickly pocketed the money glad the barista hadn't said anything about his scarred hands. Not that he thought the kid would, he'd never said anything about the man's face.

"Careful, treat a man like that he might think you were coming on to them" He teased lightheartedly, even though his chest still ached from the look the woman had given him. Though his act was far from convincing to the young man behind the counter. He tensed up just slightly, eyes flashing to the door, but he pretended he hadn't noticed the man hiding the hurt. He chuckled to himself.

"Coming from you" He gave the man a cheeky grin as he scribbled down something on the cup quickly making the man's coffee. The man studied him intently from the shadows of his jacket.

{Totally checking out that ass~!}

[He's probably not even legal]

{We can look..}

With a smile the kid turned back to the man and slid the coffee to him across the counter, with a warm smile that made the man's whole body feel like it was full of hot air, he turned to the cash register to help out the next man in line. Sad that they were busy, he really liked picking on the barista. With a huff he moved to sit down at the only empty chair in the place, it was in the farthest corner of the shop, tucked away. It felt perfect. finally getting comfortable he took a quick sip of the hot coffee, and found himself surprised. It was sweet and tasty, what had the kid given him? He took another sip, normally he really hated coffee, and he was lucky to even sip enough to look like he'd drank the entire cup. This was good though. It wasn't bitter at all he took another slower taste. There was a burn on his tongue as he drank it a little to fast but he didn't mind. From beyond the counter he saw the kid peek up over the glass and grin at him knowingly. His eyes sparkling. The man couldn't help but grin back. looking down at his cup his heart skipped a beat. Damn he felt like a love struck teenager. The name 'Andrew' was scrawled across the top of the cup in messy, beautiful handwriting. A little heart accompanied the name.

[What kind of name is Andrew?]

He'd been in a rush, it was a spur of the moment thing. He hadn't expected them to ask for his name.

[Only he puts the name on your cup.] And for some reason that made the man feel even more.. excited? Like he could jump for joy. It was true, the other baristas that worked here either looked at him with disgust or pity, and they quickly handed him the coffee to get him out of the way. Not this kid, he was sweet and kind every time he saw the scarred man. This was the first time something besides his name had been on the cup though. He looked back up after a moment of being caught up in his own thoughts, and to his regret, found that the kid had gone into the back, probably finished with his shift, to be replaced by a blonde girl with to much make up. She sickly kind to people to their faces, and awful behind their back, except for him, to him she was flat out bitchy. He really didn't like her. Just as he expected the kid came bounding from the back his hat and apron slung over one shoulder. He walked to the man with that same smile on his lips. Fuck, he was coming this way. Butterflies threatened to make the man sick as the kid slid into the other chair with a smile. 

"Better than that sludge you pretend to drink isn't it?" The man couldn't help the goofy grin that split his face, literally splitting open his dry lips. 

"Fuck yeah. I didn't know coffee could taste like anything but ass." No use in hiding that he'd been pretending to drink the coffee. The kid pulled a phone from his pocket and frowned at it, "What's wrong baby? Mommy want you home?" The man teased with a smile. 

"Yeah, I have to pick up some things from the grocery store for my aunt." He gave the scarred man a apologetic smile before getting up from the chair. "See you later Andrew." He threw back and walked from the coffee shop. He watched the kid go, contemplating following. 

[We have a job to do.] White reminded him, and white was right. He only came here on a Saturday because out of the three weeks he'd been looking for the target, he hadn't showed any other day. Saturday was kind of his last option. 

{But that buuuutt} Yellow whined. He felt torn for a moment before his target strutted into the coffee shop, he looked just like his picture. Suit and everything. Damn just looking at him made the Mercenary want to shoot him. I guess his decision was made. He wasn't gong to be stalking the cute barista just yet. {Finally! Shoot him! SHOOT HIM} His trigger finger was itching, to bad they weren't armed.

[Good thing we aren't, If his head is on his shoulders we don't get paid.]

{Oh right...} They were just going to have to wait a little longer if they wanted to get paid. 

[We do] The man ordered his coffee from the girl, who flirted like him, because he was a regular. He probably came in every Saturday, they couldn't remember why they'd been avoiding Saturdays for so long. 

{The people, remember our face looks like someone took a meat grinder to it.]

[Because the barista with the cute butt doesn't work on Saturday's usually.]

He wasn't sure which voice was right. Maybe they both were. They waited, like they always did for a long time, watching the business man casually, and when he stood to leave the Merc waited about a minute before he followed after him. He wasn't surprised the man was on foot, his contact had given him all the information he needed for the kill. Even the route he walked every day home from his favorite coffee shop. He cut ahead, ducking into an alley where he switched clothes quickly. Pulling his spandex from a bag he'd left behind one of the trash cans. There, he lie in wait for his target, who stepped down the alley not a minute later...

"Showtime" He whispered and felt his boxes just as excited as him. 


	2. Heads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood, and suicidal thoughts.

It had been a long time since he'd taken a killing job to be honest. He wasn't really looking to turn over a new leaf as much as he was trying his best to impress the Superheros he'd met. It was silly that he didn't feel bad for taking a life until one of his heros gave him that LOOK. That awful look that was sure to put a damper on his good mood, and make him feel like an overall shitty person. Well, he really was a shitty person. Especially sitting in the dark alley, body vibrating with absolute glee over the appearance and the anticipation of killing some scum bag. He wanted to hurt him, wanted to so badly it made his body itch to do something, but he wasn't close enough yet, he had to wait. Oh, his mind reeled with fantasy after fantasy. Torture... driving so much fear into the pathetic man that he'd piss himself and beg for his life before Deadpool separated his body from his head.... Fuck. He really was a terrible person after all. A cleansing breath helped to remind him that he was still here, laying in wait, and that he needed to pay attention. Not listen to the voices that were begging for blood. Damn it really had been to long since he'd taken a killing job. For a while he told himself that he was going to give it up, that one day he'd become a Superhero. That lasted less than a month before he decided that no, killing was something he simply needed. Like air. To bad none of his Superhero 'buddies' saw things that way. His grip tightened on the katana in hand. He was going to make this quick right? Clean cut. One swift movement. He was a professional after all. 

{Guts! Guts please! I want to see his guts} Yellow practically moaned in his head. Ew, now that was just plain freaky. 

[Let's not take to long. In and out. Take the head leave the body. Otherwise we don't get paid] Right money, he needed that money. So instead of spilling open the man's stomach like he wanted to do oh so badly, he made do with jumping him in the dark. It only took a hard kick to the back of his knees to force the man to the ground with a curse. He seemed more angry than worried for his life. "Language!" The Merc purred setting the cold metal of his blade against the man's throat. "I have on good authority that you've been a very, very bad man." he purred leaning close to the man's ear. Now there was a break of sweat across his skin. Great, he was well dressed and he was easy to break. Deadpool tisked like the man was simply a child that needed to be reprimanded. "Selling drugs to little children? You're so badass" The mercenary fisted the mop of greasy hair in his hand. The man made a mewling sound unable to form a proper response in fear.  "And then spiking it with deadly chemicals? Not cool man." He cut the encounter short with his sword. A swift movement took the man's head clean off, wiping the gross smirk from his face forever. The cut was swift, but the mess the man's body made was far from clean. 

Deadpool was covered in warm blood, the body bleeding out in spurts with his heart beat. "Messy sucker." The man said cheerfully turned the head up to look at it, an expression of far and pain etched in it's features. He beamed under his mask. "Would you look at that? I like you much better this way. I'm doing you a favor really buddy. You needed to lose weight, and BAMN! Look at you now! I think this look is quite fitting." He giggled to himself.

{Maybe we should start a weight loss company.}

[Or just stick with unaliving people] White replied flatly, Deadpool could feel White's eyeroll. 

He hummed a happy tune, ignoring the blood that was cooling against his suit, and his skin. The body, as according to his client's instruction, was left as a threat to anyone else in the drug circle. Usually Deadpool didn't listen past the job, he didn't usually care why someone wanted someone else dead, he always did his own research to decide if someone deserved the Merc. Most the time if they didn't they were safe, unless Deadpool's pockets were empty. Money speaks pretty damn loud. When his client had mentioned children it made the mercenary's stomach sick. He wasn't found of hurting children. It was one of the things he didn't do. Period. 

{We have some morals} 

[I don't know if I'd call it that]

"It's totally Morals." Man he felt good. His entire body was practically singing with energy. He felt more content and relaxed than he had in weeks. Sad that killing someone actually made him feel more sane. 

[That's something that serial killers feel.] White told him seeming rather intrigued at their sudden realization. 

{Does that mean we need to start murdering people for no good reason?}

"To much effort, We need the cash anyway."

[And weren't we trying to like... look good for the Avengers?] Deadpool shrugged.

{They are a bunch of jerks anyway, who cares what they think}

"We do." Deadpool said firmly to no one as he stuffed the head into the backpack that held his civilian clothes, he was going to have to wash them when he got home. Damn. 

{They don't care about you.} 

[They just use you.]

{That's the only time they ever want you around.}

[They would kick you out if they knew you were even in town.]

{No one wants you around} 

Goddamnit. Them man growled. Which probably would have been humorous to see a full grown man growling menacingly at nothing, not so much when you realized there was a body at his feet and that red suit was covered in blood. 

"Shut the fuck up you're ruining my good mood." His voice was a deep growl and he threw the bag over one shoulder, hoping that his clothes would absorb most of the blood. He didn't need to be leaving a dripping trail for the police to follow. He sorta liked his apartment, on the way home he didn't really bother hiding just how loudly he was arguing with the boxes. They were on one tonight, spewing everything they could to completely shatter his good mood. They were doing a damn good job of it too. By the time he ran into Spider Man he was itching for his gun, and not to shoot at the friendly bug. 

[Friendly to everyone but you.] He couldn't help the growl that vibrated deeply in his throat. Spider Man gave him a confused look. 

"Spidey!" The Merc tired for a cheerful as he could, the arachnid seemed to not notice the merc's foul mood. He threw open his arms like he expected the Hero to leap into them. 

[Pathetic.]

{Childish] 

He tired to ignore the constant chattering in his head, it was getting hard to not shoot himself on the roof top though. 

"Deadpool" The Spider's tone was suspicious at best, good thing the hero hadn't come running into his arms. The blood on his suit wasn't quiet dry, and he'd have stuck to it, then there would have been questions. 

{He hates it when you kill}

[Monster]

"What are you doing out tonight?" The Hero asked folding his arms and giving Deadpool the 'you better not lie to me or I'll know' look, but Spidey wasn't the best at telling if someone is lying. Not to mention that lies rolled of the Merc's mouth with ease. He hadn't met anyone that could read through one of his lies. Unless he was with out his mask, he couldn't hide the hollow look in his eyes. 

"Oh lets see, I went out for Tacos, helped a little old lady across the street, pulled faces at stark tower, had a wonderful duet with the boxes that I am offended you missed Spidey it really was a wonderful moment. Very inspiring. The mall cop didn't seem as impressed though. Really, that man should get a job somewhere else, he was huge! He just picked me up and led me out. He was quite a man! His butt isn't as good as yours though. I donno though, I haven't seen it in spandex. Maybe I should go back and see if I can convince him to put on a pair of spandex bottoms. That way we can have a much better comparison. You know for science and stuff, I wonder if he'll fit into-" His stream of consciousness was being constantly commented on by the boxes in his head and finally he just snapped. "With you two shut the fuck up?!" He shouted off to one side glaring up at nothing. "Just fucking wait until we get home okay?!" Spider Man cleared his throat after an awkward second.  Deadpool blinked at him for a confused second. Oh he'd said that out loud. well.. oops

"You in a hurry?" the hero finally managed to say still seeming awkward from the man's insane outburst. They hadn't really come in contact to much. He'd heard things about the man before, how he was really fucking crazy mostly. "I didn't mean to stop you..." He had actually, but if the merc was acting unstable there was no way he was sticking around to see how that turned out. He'd heard enough about the man shooting his own team mates. 

"I'm just headed home for some Tacos! Do you want some Spidey?" His tone was cheerful, but the hero's spider sense was screaming to stay away from this man. 

"No thanks." The Hero said flatly, he expected the usual disappointment when he refused Deadpool's invites. but for some reason this seemed to bring relief to the man. That was strange. If his Spider sense hadn't been going so crazy he might have tried to figure out why Deadpool didn't seem to want him around for once. The man put on a comical pout. 

"Awe, well more for me I guess!" he chirped happily and practically skipped past the hero, humming some cheery tone that the spider didn't recognize. He watched the Red clad man go feeling confused. Like he'd just missed something vital. It wasn't until after the man was gone that he noticed the blood left behind in the mercenary's wake. Somehow he didn't think it was Deadpool's. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3


	3. Snap crackle pop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suicide warning!  
> Poor Wadey baby.
> 
> Its a little short.

Deadpool entered the run down apartment through the front door rather than the window as he usually did. He slammed the door behind him and tossed the bag with his mark's severed head off to the side. He barely heard it thunk against the ground, the skull hitting the kitchen's tile floor. He should been taking out the clothes and soaking them. He should be trying to clean them. Fuck that. He yanked open the door of his fridge to look over little he had, a couple bags of take out, half of them probably so old they'd kill him. Some really heavy liquor, well a lot of liquor, it took Wade a lot to actually get drunk. A couple cans of soda, spoiled milk, a couple of his own body parts. You know, just in case. His head was a mess of noise, so much that he could feel the headache that made him feel uneasy and restless. So much for sleep tonight. His skin ached from the blood that had crusted to him and his suit, it made him itchy and uncomfortable. He just couldn't bring himself to do anything about it. So instead he shut the door of the fridge with more force than necessary, before he moved to slouch on the beaten up couch. He just sat there, staring intently at the blank screen of his tv.

[He didn't even want to be around you.]

"I didn't want him to come around." He snapped at the box, his voice low and dangerous.

{Because he's going to do something drastic} Purred the Yellow box. The merc put his head in his hands and groaned, sometimes they just got so loud that it hurt. 

"I'm not going to do anything!" 

{Oh Really?}

[We're you Dumb fuck, we know what you're going to do.]

{Again}

"you're not me!" He sounded desperate, and fuck he wasn't going to cry. Not even from frustration 

[Such an attention whore.]

Wade stumbled to his feet, nearly crashing and falling over the coffee table. His breathing was coming in short spurts. He was having a hard time standing straight, he was sick to his stomach and the room felt like it was spinning. He stumbled into the bedroom. Breathing not quite right. 

{Killing yourself for pity.} 

"I don't do it for pity!" The crazed man said spinning around to face nothing as he shouted at his voices. 

[You do it because you hate yourself. You want to die.]

{But you can't even do that right can you, Wade?} The man recoiled as if he'd been slapped. 

[A pathetic excuse for a failure.]

{Who just want's to be a Hero}

[Fuck up.]

He tore apart the bedsheets, pulling at them and hurdling them around the room as he desperately searched for something he'd hidden there. He needed it. He couldn't do this anymore. 

{Coward~} Yellow purred in a cheery voice. Blood dripped down the Merc's face, he realized he'd scratched deep gouges into his head. He didn't remember doing that, but it couldn't have been to long ago. They weren't quite healed yet. 

[How can you ever hope to be a hero? You can't even face reality]

{Or us.}

"Death will understand"

[She doesn't want you.] A broken sob tore from his chest, but this was one of relief as he found the gun. A pistol, not unlike the ones he carried around on his person, was buried in the pillows of his bed. The gun felt heavy and reassuring in his hand. His body shuddered and he found himself clutching it like one would something precious. This was the only gun he used for this. He wasn't sure why or when he decided that this particular pistol was going to be one he shot himself with, it just kinda happened. He never took it out of the house, it felt soiled, he hid it away. It was just for him, this was his business. He turned to sit down on the messy bed staring at the gun in his hand. 

{It's not going to work} 

"Just shut up!" He screamed clicking the safety off the pistol in hand. "Just... shut up" he slumped his head in one hand the other tapping the barrel of the pistol against his forehead. "Let me think for just a second."

[Do it. You ugly son of a whore]

{Literally}

[Oh so we are going with that story?]

{Momma's boy} 

[Ouch]

That was it. He wasn't thinking about this anymore. 

[Do it.]

{It won't shut us up for long.}

"But it will for a while." He whispered and pressed the gun to his chin. The sound of a pistol firing echoed through the hallways. No one cared to go looking for the sound. Not in this neighborhood. So the Mercenary would be left in his own blood. Alone like he always seemed to be. At least he'd be free of the voices for a while. Temporary relief from his insanity.  

 

Spider Man's night was much more appealing, if a little boring. It seemed that tonight wasn't going to be busy, although he did get into a nasty fight with a bunch of thugs. He'd heal, but he was going to have a couple nasty bruises in the morning. When it became obvious that there really wasn't much crime out tonight, he decided that his bed was screaming his name. So instead of patrolling to his usual time he threw in the towel early. He made it to his apartment, sliding through the window. He made his way to the bathroom, peeling sections of his suit from his body. Balling them all together he tossed them in front of his washing machine before closing the bathroom door behind him. He had to admit, part of the reason he headed home was the uncomfortable nagging feeling he still had after seeing the Merc. The encounter just sat wrong with him, it's not like Deadpool had done anything particularly out of the ordinary. It was a little strange that he was in such a hurry to get to wherever he was headed. He'd seemed himself though, the same cheerful happy psycho that he usually was. So why did thinking about it make him sick? He turned on the shower letting the room fill with hot steam. There was nothing he could do now, that's what he told himself, trying to stop worrying over a man who could heal from almost anything. He stepped under the hot shower of water, letting his muscles and body relax. Washing away the stress of the night, and all the filth from his patrol. He wasn't Spider Man now, he told himself. Don't stress about his hero work when he was out of his suit. That was the only way the Hero could keep himself sane. 

The shower was long, much longer that he really needed, but by the time he was done he was tired, and content. Finally relaxed. He'd wash his suit later. He had work early, and he just wanted sleep. So with a content sigh he collapsed on his bed curling in on himself. Not minding that he was still wet, or that he was still naked. He'd deal with it all tomorrow. It didn't take him a long time to fall to sleep.


	4. Cleaning Spree!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh I am so sorry it's so short. I have been struggling to write anything! <3  
> I really hope it wasn't to bad. I feel like it's just a junk filler chapter. but I can't keep looking at it and wondering what I should do to complete it. *Flop* Take it.

Wade woke feeling uncomfortable and disoriented. The sun was shining through the curtains on his window and he was half laying on his messed up bed. He stared at the ceiling, Which was really the only indication of what happened. His brain matter splattered along the ceiling and wall gave the Merc a good idea of what he'd done last night. His memory was faulty at best after he shot his brains out. He shifted, a throbbing headache making him wince as he sat up. The voices were still offline it seemed, and he kinda missed them. His head was to quiet without them. His suit was crusted with blood and the merc groaned in discomfort. He felt disgusting, more so than usual. It probably wasn't his own though, he didn't make that much of a mess when he killed himself. Except that one time he'd tried slicing his own throat. Damn that had been messy. His foot brushed against the pistol on the floor lightly. It must have fallen from his hand after he did his buisness. He'd remember why he shot himself later... probably. Last think he remembered was trailing his mark. He couldn't remember if he'd actually killed him or not though. All in good time he supposed. Deadpool leaned over to pick his pistol from the ground. He stood, uncomfortable as the blood caked on his body pulled at his skin and his suit stuck to him. Walking to the dresser he put the gun down, so he wouldn't kick it by accident and kill himself again.

[That was one time] 

"White! You're finally back." 

[Yeah and damn does it hurt in here] He was right, Wade was sporting a rather nasty migraine. He was glad for the curtains that blocked out the sun, otherwise he was sure it would be much worse. Deadpool turned and opened up the bathroom door that connected with his bedroom. He needed a shower, and he needed to see if he could even salvage his suit. He turned on the water, leaving it freezing cold as he stepped in, suit still on. He shuddered in discomfort at the cold water, watching as the suit, and his body gave the water a pinkish tint as it swirled down the drain. When he'd soaked himself and the suit he slowly began to peel the layers off. He tossed it on to the floor of the shower. After a moment of rinsing his skin off in the cold water he slowly began to turn the heat up. He only got to a room temperature before he began to scrub his sore skin rather violently. Leaving it even more red and irritated then it was before. He let his mind wander, now that it was quiet he could think a little. He remembered more of the night, that he'd killed his mark and his head was stuffed in his bag, the one that was lying on his kitchen floor probably making a mess of his tiles. He groaned a little. He was going to have to clean up all that blood, from him and from blowing is brains out all over the bedroom. His apartment wasn't the nicest, but at least he kept it some what clean. Sure, his couch was a tattered mess that he kept resewing instead of just buying a new one. Sure, he had boxes and boxes of empty take out scattered in his kitchen and living room. Sure he left his guns and knives around the house like a child would his toys. But he vacuumed at least once a week! Unless he was out for business. And he always cleaned up after himself when he came home bleeding or decided to shoot himself. That happened more often than he'd like to admit... 

Wade turned off his shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, pretending not to see the angry red scars as he passed in front of the mirror. He didn't bother to get dressed other than to throw on one of his clean masks. He just felt wrong without it. Wade moved to the kitchen, he could smell the blood from the head, and found it had soaked through his bag on to the tile. Wonderful. The Mercanary sighed. 

{Awe I don't wanna clean}

[And we don't want blood all over everything.] 

"It makes everything smell bad!" The Merc said pulling a trash bag from under his sink so he could toss the head into it. He really should have put it in the freezer. Though, it wasn't like his employeer was going to eat it. Probably. He figured the head was just proof of kill. Wade pulled out a couple chemicals and began cleaning up the mess on his kitchen floor. After he cleaned up in the kitchen, scrubbed his brains off the cealing, and tossed out all the bedsheets he'd ruined, he was going to get in touch with the woman that hired him. It was payday. He took a deep breath and went to work, his boxes complaining while they cleaned. 

 

Peter woke up to the sun filtering into his room. It was Sunday, and he didn't have to do anything. This made him smile, still half asleep and roll over in bed. He knew he wouldn't get back to sleep, so after only a few minutes he shifted to stretch, throwing off his covers he got dressed. He really should go out and take a couple pictures in his suit. It was early and he could get away with a couple good shots with the morning sun.. but he really wanted to relax. He was a mess to look at. He had curly hair and sleeping on it turned his hair into something frightening. Not that he cared at the moment. Dressed, he moved to make himself coffee and something to eat for breakfast. It wasn't often Peter had the day off from both of his jobs. He was debating on taking a day off from his super hero job today too. It was just such a nice morning. 

The coffee pot beeped at him and he absent made a cup. His breakfast wasn't much, a little toast to munch on while he watched the news. He hadn't done much yesterday so he doubted he'd turn it on to hear someone insulting Spider-Man. It was always a real bummer when that happened. Couldn't they see he was here to help? That saving people was all he wanted to do? That he was the hero? He couldn't really be mad though. He'd seen some of the things the media had said about the Avengers. The hate wasn't enough to get him to throw in his suit. He'd probably be doing this until he physically couldn't anymore. The news was boring, just as boring as his patrol on the night before. No robberies, no stolen cars, no kittens stuck in trees. Maybe a vacation from his Spider-Man work was an order... and first order of business on his day off? The apartment needed cleaning. 

 

Wade collapsed on his couch with a loud dramatic groan. The apartment was clean, sparking. 

{So clean you could eat off the floor!}

Looking down at the stained carpet deadpool wrinkled his nose at the thought.

[Uh... no, that would be a terrible idea. I think the floor is growing new types of bacteria...]

"I don't know... I mean you could try, but why would you?"

{SCIENCE!} Yellow cried out cheerfully. Deadpool hummed in agreement, that was a good reason to test the toxicity of his carpet. 

[Wait! Before we go dying again why don't get paid? You know, the reason we have a head stuffed in our fridge.] Oh yeah, that. Deadpool supposed that was probably something he should take care of. A quick message on his work phone and he'd have a meet place set up so they could trade off. The head for the money. Wade was almost shocked to find just how late it was, he'd spent all day cleaning, though he did feel much better now that the apartment was clean. It felt like a weight was off his shoulders. It was probably partially because he'd just killed himself. He always felt better after he had a bullet in his head. 

A couple messages later and a secure meeting place had been set, it wouldn't take long to get in and get out. Deadpool decided that after that reruns of the golden girls were simply calling for him. So he slipped on his weapons, stuffed the chilled head into a black duffle bag, and set out for his quick drop off. 

 

Wade wasn't the only one ready for the sunset. Peter was dressed up in his freshly cleaned suit. Ready to knock a couple heads together. Even though he promised himself that he was going to take the day off. Something was simply telling him that he needed to go out tonight. but he promised himself that he'd just be quick. A short-round-the-block sort of patrol. 

Too bad both Deadpool and Peter were in for a long night. 


End file.
